


it's future rust

by ikuzonos



Series: DR: TTNH Side Stories [7]
Category: DR: TTNH, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: It’s funny. You never expected anything like this.TTNH Finale Spoilers.
Relationships: Fujita Minoru/Kanagaki Kazue
Series: DR: TTNH Side Stories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700629
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	it's future rust

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR suicide cw; the martyrdom/magenta trial is a focus here.
> 
> written in November 2018, edited ever so slightly to account for a major plot change

It’s funny. You never expected anything like this. 

///

Your first conversation with her is during the early days. There are sixteen people and a promise of death hanging overhead, but no enactment.

And you don’t think anyone will kill, because you’re naive, and you haven’t seen how godless other people can be.

It’s not a very deep talk, but she looks you in the eyes and listens to what you’re saying. You know she’s only with you because of adherence to a vaguely enforced buddy system.

She’s a nice presence. She carries an air of mystery to her, even though she has nothing to hide. It’s something in her voice, in how she moves, in her eyes.

She thinks she’s dangerous. That the sharpshooter with blood on her hands is by far the most worrisome presence in a psychological murder game.

You disagree. If she wanted to hurt someone, wouldn’t she have already done it?

She says you’re too trusting.

///

She looks back at you, from the staircase, just before you get tied up. It’s only a split second, but there’s an emotion in her eyes that wasn’t present before.

///

You defend her in the trial. 

It’s someone else who fully clears her name and helps the proceedings continue, but you stay on her side from the moment she’s first accused.

She shoots you a glance out of the corner of her eye, like she’s confused. 

Not ungrateful. Just confused.

///

Girls like her aren’t supposed to be vulnerable, or at least, they can never show it.

You, and everyone remaining, see her in her moment of weakness, in her futile attempt to maintain composure as she collapses on the lobby floor.

You run up to her and take her hand. She’s crying and throwing up and there’s a wild look in her eyes, like that of a wolf in a storm.

Gripping her close, you lead her to the washroom and help clean her up. Her clothes still reek of vomit, but she’s no longer covered in it.

You press a damp cloth to her forehead and ask her if she needs anything. 

She can’t meet your eyes, and says only that she’s sorry. Then she asks for a moment alone to wash her face.

You grant her this and go back to the restaurant. She returns within a couple minutes, trembling from head to toe.

She apologizes to everyone for alarming them, and begins to cry. Your throat catches.

///

There’s something different about her now. You aren’t sure what it is.

///

She had one obvious, open moment of vulnerability. You thought it would be all you ever saw, but with that break down came a break  _ out. _

She is softer now, and her voice has a kindness that you never registered before. She moves with less confidence and more fear. Her eyes are sad instead of empty.

And with you, she is in the most vulnerable position of all, and yet still retains control. You press closer to her and she breathes soft words into your ear.

The calm inside the storm. The eye of the hurricane.

She kisses you and there is no pain.

Not yet.

///

You watch a girl get pummelled into bloody pulp and it breaks you. You cry into her shoulder and tell her that you can’t watch anyone else die.

She promises you that she’ll never kill anyone, so you never have to watch her be executed. You promise the same back, tightening your grip on her hand.

The two of you will stick together and maximize your chances of survival. It’s the right thing to do.

///

You are forced to watch more people die.

///

She tells you that she feels guilty, and you insist that there’s nothing she could have done. But no matter what you tell her, you can’t placate her. There’s a shaking terror in her voice as she speaks.

You wish you knew what she was afraid of.

///

The world is quiet here. The murder mascot has faded into almost distant memory, but there is no escape.  There are five of you (such a departure from sixteen) and you are all sick and sad and lonely. Every day is another slog.  


You wake up to find her gone one morning. It's not suspicious; she frequently wakes before you on days when the world isn't ending. But you can already feel it in your chest, feel a tight, dense knot that threatens to suffocate you.

Something is wrong.

You rush into the washroom trying to catch your breath, when you see it. A letter on the counter. You rip it open with shaking hands, but don't get any further than the first line before you turn and see _her._ Bloody and breathless in the shower stall, a handgun loose in her hand.

You hit the floor with a sickening crack as the world goes dark around you, because this is _wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG._

When light floods your senses again, you're lying on the bed once more. For one selfish moment, you beg it was only a nightmare. But seeing the others around you, seeing her best friend emerge from the washroom while stained with blood, you quickly realize that you are trapped in hell.

Why? Why did this happen? You reach for a letter you no longer have, and then uselessly stumble back into the washroom. She's completely still.  You scream and you scream and you scream and her chest doesn’t rise.

Everything is growing fainter as you desperately try to rouse her. She won’t move and you can’t breathe either.

And everything is grey and everything is  _ gone--  _

///

She doesn’t come by your room one night and you lie awake thinking about her.

She usually says something beforehand if something comes up, and this rare occurrence has you on edge.  Other people are dying around you. Part of you worried that something is going to happen to her.  The rational part of your brain tells you that she’s fine. That she can take care of herself.

You’re not sure you believe in rationality.

In the early morning hours you lightly drift off, unable to keep your eyes open. You dream of her and her smile, the smile she only shows you.

A knock on the door rouses you from the uncomfortable slumber. It’s just after six in the morning, and you can’t fathom what you’re about to see.

It’s her, but her eyes are red and tired. Her face is stained with blood that runs from her nostrils, over her lips, and onto her shirt.

She tells you she walked into a door. As she talks, more blood trickles out of her nose.

You get her a tissue and sit with her, rubbing circles on her back. You don’t ask her why she didn’t show up last night. You think you’re afraid to know the answer.

///

She screams incomprehensibly as she slams her hand down on a large red button. Your first bangs against the glass, but she doesn’t respond.

You see silver, and then you see nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

///

You watch a girl get ground into sawdust and it breaks you. You cry into her shoulder and tell her that you can’t watch anyone else die.

She promises you that she’ll never kill anyone, so you never have to watch her be executed. You promise the same back, tightening your grip on her hand.

The two of you will stick together and maximize your chances of survival. It’s the right thing to do.

///

She tells you that she feels guilty, and you insist that there’s nothing she could have done. But no matter what you tell her, you can’t placate her. There’s a shaking terror in her voice as she speaks.

You wish you knew what she was afraid of.

///

You break the promise first.

///

The gun feels heavy inside your coat as she desperately fights for your innocence. 

You’ve already confessed, but she won’t have it. Won’t let you take the fall for the crime you committed.

And you realize in this moment that she would gladly die for you. And if this continues, she  _ will _ die for you, and will force everyone else to die for you too.  You wonder if maybe she was right, maybe she is the most dangerous person here, because she refuses to back down no matter what anyone says.

Even you can’t make her stop. She’s completely off the deep end.  And you can’t even blame her, because you know that you would do the same for her. You would smile if you weren't devastated.

You reach into your coat. 

Her eyes grow wide. She’s smart. She must have figured it out.

You put the pistol to your head.

///

You pull the trigger before speaking and blow your brains out on her as she lunges for you.

///

She grabs the gun but you still manage to shoot yourself before she pulls away.

///

She grabs the gun and you wrestle, finger locked on the trigger. You think it’s facing the right way when you squeeze it. The bullet goes through her stomach.

///

You fight for for the gun and she pulls the trigger on you instead.

///

You fight for the gun and she pulls the trigger on herself.

///

You fight.

///

The gun goes off and it doesn’t hit either of you, the bullet disappearing somewhere, anywhere else.

In the commotion, she takes the gun and hides it in her coat. You stare at each other with hollow, empty eyes. 

You know it’s unfair before you say it. You ask her if she wants you to be executed.

She wails uselessly and hugs you tightly. Tears silently run down your own face as you hold onto her.  You can’t hear anything else around you, the entire world is her and she is a storm of sorrow and agony.

You feel her lips brush your ear, and she whispers three words that you never expected to hear, not from her.

In a romance novel she might have said ‘I love you.’

This is not a novel. This is a horror movie, and you are the villain.

“I’m the mastermind.”

So quiet and so breathless that you know the words were only meant for you. Three words that turn everything upside down and backwards.

Three words that explain her unquenchable guilt and little more.

You pull back and beg her to repeat herself, but she won’t look you in the eyes.  You hear her apology from the dimly lit bathroom and you know you’ve heard correctly.

When the chain pulls you towards a certain grave, you still reach for her hand.

Her fingers just barely manage to brush yours.

///

You nestle yourself closer to her. She is a warmth you have never known before. You never expected anything like this, not from a game as cruel as this.

She holds you in her arms. In this place, you cannot be harmed. 

(You can hear gunshots in the back of your head.)

///

You break the promise first.

///

You break the promise, but somehow, the world flies upside down and you slowly realize that you haven't broken it at all. By some twist of fate, you are innocent in a world where you should be hanging.

But something is wrong. Her confession rings in your ears even as someone else burns for a crime you nearly ruined everyone's lives over. It cannot be true. It rings of falsities and betrayal, and you can't bring yourself to process it. Not yet.

You can only stand there in the ashes of everything and know deep in your heart that she meant it when she said she was dangerous, but in the worst way possible.

///

She spills her guts and it feels like fire and burning, but it's real. It's real, and that's what matters. Even if everything else you know is false, even if every single thing you've learned before this point has been a misdirection, a lie, it doesn't matter now.

All that matters is _her._ Perhaps it's foolish. But as you grip her hand, knowing that God will kill her if it's the last thing the sinful deity is capable of, you can't bring yourself to think about anything else.

You love her, desperately, constantly, unconditionally.

(And the future is nothing but rust.)


End file.
